Ganesha, bearer of burdens,
Today mine are heavy—fevered limbs,
Unspoken words, tears behind smiles.
I ran through rain for flowers,
For dresses, for peace.
But I forgot to run toward myself.
Let this breath be my offering.
Let this silence be my aarti.
Let this ache be seen—not hidden, not judged.
I am not weak. I am weary.
And even in weariness, I serve.
Even in tears, I love.
So hold me, Bappa—not as a devotee,
But as a son who needs rest,
A father who needs grace,
A soul who needs one moment of stillness.
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